


Darkness

by eyeless_soul



Category: Once Upon a Time in Mexico (2003)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-01
Updated: 2013-08-09
Packaged: 2017-12-16 19:15:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 14
Words: 22,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/865597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyeless_soul/pseuds/eyeless_soul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sands has to cope with being blind as well as trying to figure out exactly what happened in Mexico.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Out in the Open

He knew that the sun should be blazing but he couldn't see it. He guessed that his body had gone into shock because he shouldn't be this cold. There's a wetness on his face that he wanted to pretend was tears. He knew that given his current condition he should have never made it out of the building but somehow he did. He knew that he should be passed out in an alley, but he guessed the adrenaline kept him going.

He could feel the adrenaline leaving his body. He had managed to shoot and kill four people, including Ajedrez, the bitch that had been responsible for what had happened. Now he was lying on the ground, sure that he was going to die there.

There was a faint tingling of bells. He was sure that it was his brain playing some sort of joke on him. ~Maybe this is hell~ he thought. ~Where you relive the most horrific experience of your life over and over, where you think you're going to be rescued. However, just as the help would reach you the cycle would start over again. Fan-fucking-tastic.~

"Senor?" The voice was small, unsure and sounded terrified.

Agent Sands managed to get onto his knees and then shakily to his feet. There was dust clinging to his clothes and he could feel the blood oozing from his arm, leg and the other injury that he didn't want to think about. He turned so that he was facing the boy. "Let's go."

"Where to?" The boy on the bike asked.

Sands made a mental note to ask the boy's name when they got to safety. "The Flying Cow. There should be someone there for me." As he walked he didn't want to put too much of his weight on the kid, but he knew that his wounded leg wouldn't stand much either. He leaned on the boy for support until they got close enough to the building so he could use the wall.

His dark world was spinning and threatened to disappear. The boy on the other hand was worried about the man with the sunglasses.

He may have only been 8 years old but he knew the walking dead when he saw one. When he first met him after he came out of the building he knew that something terrible had happened; after all blood is blood. That was most definitely blood dripping down his face. Now he was more than certain that if they didn't hurry, the man in the sunglasses would die.

They had just turned the corner when Fernando stopped. For the third time in five minutes the same gray car had passed them. He had a hold of the man's hand and when he stopped, the man furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

"What's wrong?" His voice was weak and shaky. It was all he could do to stop his teeth from chattering.

"We're being followed."

"Fuck." Sands muttered. There was no way he'd be able to withstand another battle. "Okay. Where?"

"Right in front."

"Alright. Stay behind me." He figured if there was another shoot out, there was no point in the kid getting shot. He took a deep breath and let go of the wall. No point in letting them see how worn out and weak he was. It was bad enough that they could see that he was injured.

He heard the car stop. He stood rigidly straight, a quirky smile on his face. The first thing he had learned in Psychology; was that if you wanted someone to believe something, you had to portray confidence. You had to make them believe that you believed in whatever shit you were trying to sell.

He wanted whoever he was dealing with to believe that although he was bleeding he could still whip their asses. His world was spinning and his head throbbed, but he was determined to stick it out.

He heard doors open and footsteps; he turned his head towards the sound. He was already starting to sway on his feet; he knew that this was not a good sign. He knew that if the Cartel wanted him, they could have him. They already took his eyes, what could they do to him that would be more painful? He couldn't think of anything.

He turned to the boy. "Go away." Fernando took the hint and ran.

"Alright, fuckers, come and get me." His abused body finally gave out. His gun clattered to the ground as he collapsed onto the concrete.


	2. In The Car

A man with light brown hair, wearing a suit stepped over to where Sands body lay. Fernando knew that Sands was his friend and that he had obviously been hurt. Fernando felt that he had to try and protect him from these people.

As they approached he tried to stand in their way. "You stay away."

The man in the suit smiled. He knelt down so that he was at eye level with the youngster. "We aren't going to hurt him. He needs a doctor and we're going to make sure that he sees one. You can come with us, so that you can see we're telling the truth."

Fernando didn't trust these men. The man in the suit could tell that he was having trouble winning the boy over. He also knew that if he didn't do something Sands was going to die.

"My name is Meyers. I'm a friend of Mr. Sands." As he spoke he pointed to the body. He wanted to make sure that the kid knew who he was referring to and exactly what they were going to do. He needed the boy to understand that he was aware that he wasn't being trusted but at the same time that Sands was in serious trouble.

As if to accentuate the point, Sands moaned. Fernando looked down at the man in the sunglasses. "You will help him?"

"Yes."

Fernando nodded. He just hoped that he was doing the right thing.

Meyers looked towards the car that he had just stepped out of. He made eye contact with the driver. Two men came out of the car and walked over to the shallowly breathing body. Meyers put his hand on the boys shoulder after he had stood.

The two agents that had gotten out of the car picked up the fallen man. As one lifted his feet and other grabbed him under his arms, Meyers got a good look at him. He was shot in his arm and leg. There was some sort of injury to his face, there was blood both dry and wet rolling down his face. It looked to him like Sands was crying blood. He was hoping that it was nothing too serious.

Agent Sands was placed in the back seat, the boy sat with the agents head in his lap. Agent Meyers was glad that the hospital wasn't too far. He wasn't thrilled that they had to take him to a Mexican hospital; he knew that they had little choice his injuries needed to be tended to immediately. That and he knew that Sands had some sort of injury to his eyes; he just didn't know how severe the injury really was.

When they reached the hospital Dr. Sanchez took him immediately. The old Mexican was a friend of Meyers. When Meyers had called and said that he had a fellow agent that was badly injured, he didn't hesitate to tell him to bring the man to him.

Dr. Sanchez had been a doctor for the army so he had seen his fair share of gruesome deaths. At first glance it didn't look like anything that would have caused him to pass out; except for exhaustion. That was until he took a look at Sand's face. By the way that the blood ran in tear-like tracks on his face, he figured that they had cut his face. He had the nurse get the surgical needle ready; he was thinking that he would have a few stitches to put in. After the sunglasses were removed he gasped at what he saw.

He had the attending nurse watch Sands while he went to the waiting room. When he got there Jack Meyers was pacing. "Agent Meyers?"

Meyers looked at the doctor and knew that something was wrong. Dr. Sanchez looked pale. "What is it?"

"I think you better look at this."

Both men walked towards the room where Sands was. By the time they reached the room, Sally (the nurse) had washed most of the blood off his face. Jack walked over to the bed. He gasped when he saw Sheldon's face. He had known that the Cartel could be cruel but he didn't know that they were *that* cruel; capable of doing what they did. Where Sheldon's dark brown eyes had been there were empty holes.

"Jesus Christ. So now what?"

Dr. Sanchez ran a hand through his hair. "There's very little that I can do for him here. I doubt that anyone will be able to do anything for him. All the same, he needs to be brought back to the States. He'll need long term care."

Meyers nodded. "Okay. I'll start setting things up."

When Jack got back to the waiting room, Fernando was there waiting patiently. "What now?" Was all the boy said.

"Agent Sands has been hurt really bad. I'm taking him to the United States so that he can be taken care of."

Fernando nodded. "I go too."

Jack shook his head. "I'm sure your parents need you."

"My Padre left when I was a baby. My momma is dead I have no one. Please let me go with you."

Meyers looked at the boy. Sands was most definitely not a kid guy; this boy seemed to have slipped under Sands' carefully placed wires. "Well he'll need someone to help him adjust."

The child's expression changed. "No eyes."

Meyers jaw dropped. "You saw?"

"Si."

Meyers was dumb-founded. He had figured that a child seeing that would have given them nightmares. He had to remind himself that this child was growing up on the streets of Mexico; the chances were that he had seen worse. Meyers nodded in thought; this kid was loyal if nothing else. "Okay. Let's go."

By that evening they were set to leave. Meyers had called the CIA Headquarters and let them know that Agents Sands had been badly hurt and that he was going back to the States on a private jet first thing the next morning. He didn't tell them the extent of Sands injuries. He knew that because of the questionable nature of his dealings they would be assholes about the whole thing. He figured that this was a situation best dealt with by the Supervisors in person.

He was hoping that Sheldon would stay unconscious during the flight. He had no idea on the state of the man's already shaky mind.


	3. Waking Up Blind

It was dark. He couldn't tell if someone else was in the room. The only thing that he could hear was beeping. ~Probably a heart monitor.~ His hands were lying flat at his sides. He didn't feel hard concrete underneath him. He knew that he was lying on a bed. He could move both hands and feet so he was not strapped down.

He tried to open his eyes and automatically knew that something was wrong. He couldn't seem to get them open. He lifted his right hand and with shaky fingers touched the upper part of his face. He felt soft cloth under his fingers. He followed the material and realized that it was wrapped around his head.

*You didn't even see it coming, did you. . .*

*Fortunately for you, nothing you did is worth dying for. You have only seen too much. We are going to make sure this does not happen again.*

He clawed at the cloth as the voices of his distorted memories clouded his mind. He could remember everything now, being double-crossed, watching his entire operation go to hell and then having his eyes drilled out.

He'd been in the hospital enough times to know that there had to be a panic or call button near his bed somewhere. With his left hand he felt around until he found the guardrail. He traced the cool metal until he found the cord. He followed the cord until he finger was over the button. He hesitated for just a minute before he pressed it. The buzzing filled the room.

Meyers on the other hand was on his way back to the hospital. After reaching the States he brought Fernando to his room, the child was absolutely exhausted. He wasn't all that surprised that the boy had fallen asleep almost immediately. The boy had been through quite a lot in the last day or two.

After seeing that the child was safely asleep he went to meet with Chuck Bradney and his own supervisor, Richard Mullens. He hated these meetings. They were either so brief that nobody knew what in the hell was going on or they were so long that by the time they finished your ass was numb from sitting in the same spot.

His supervisor had been slightly busy, so the meeting lasted all of 15 minutes. In the end it was decided that the Director of Defense, Chuck Bradney would be 'acting' supervisor. He'd go to the hospital with Meyers and assess the damage that Sands had sustained. They ignored the comment that his injuries would be easy to assess once they were seen.

The drive to the hospital was uneventful. Meyers had tried a couple of times to explain to Bradney what had happened to Sheldon but it was clear that he wasn't going to listen.

Meyers pulled onto the shoulder of the road. "I'm just trying to prepare you for what you're going to see."

Bradney scoffed. "I've been with the Central Intelligence Agency for over 25 years, there isn't much that can be done to an agent that I haven't seen. Quit thinking that I don't know what I'm up against."

Meyers shrugged. If Bradney thought that he had seen 'everything,' then fine. He hated to use his friend’s condition as a shock tactic but Bradney deserved it. "Alright fine." He restarted the car.

As they drove towards the hospital Bradney couldn't help but feel as if he made a mistake. Agent Meyers obviously felt as though Agent Sands' condition was bad. ~Oh well, ~ he thought to himself. ~The worst that there could possibly be would be if he's in a coma and the Cartel had mutilated him beyond recognition.~

Sands on the other hand had grown impatient. The doctors wouldn't let him dress, so he was in a bathrobe with his hospital gown underneath that. Despite their warnings he had removed the bandages and gaze. If he knew Meyers as well as he thought he did, as well as proper protocol in regards to injured and mutilated agents, he had went to The Company and would probably be returning with a supervisor. He would die first, and then have them see him with his face bandaged.

After he had pressed the call button; a Dr. Morris had come in. They were surprised that he was awake and relieved that he was coherent. After all, he had been through a very traumatic experience. They had been worried that it would have been too much and that his mind might have collapsed.

Sheldon chuckled humourlessly to himself. He was Sheldon Jeffrey Sands. He was mentally unstable to begin with (and of course he knew that); he had to be for half the shit he pulled. It would take a little more than getting his eyes gouged out to make his mind fall apart.

He was grateful just the same when the hospital provided him with a pair of sunglasses. They were still on the table. He had to disinfect his "eyes" before putting the glasses on his face. He stood up and waited for the darkness to stop moving. Once everything was still he slowly made his way to the bathroom. As he felt along the wall until he hit the bathroom door; he concluded that being blind sucked. While he was in the bathroom attending to his body's needs, both Meyers and Bradney came in.

"Shel?"

Sheldon froze at the sink where he was washing his hands. As requested by the doctors, when he was alone the glasses stayed off. But this meant that he had company and now he was exposed. His dark world was starting to spin again. He could feel the bile rising up in his throat.

"Meyers?" He hated how weak and uncertain he sounded.

"Yeah Sheldon?" He felt bad for his friend. He knew how hard his injury was on him. At first, he thought that maybe Sheldon had lost his bearings.

"You're not alone, are you?"

"No." As he spoke he watched Bradney. The man was studying the room.

At first glance it didn't look like anything out of the ordinary. There was the usual IV bags and things of that nature, although the stand for that was empty. The rail on the bed on the one side was up and the phone was off.

When Meyers had informed him that he was not alone Sands tried not to panic. The Company was never one to waste time; he figured they'd send one of their higher-ranking people there as soon as possible. He just wished that he were more prepared. He could either face the music and go out there with his sockets exposed, or he could get off his pedestal and ask for help.

"Meyers, can you bring the shades on the nightstand to me?" As he spoke he put his cup down. The hospital doctors insisted that he put something akin to eye drops in the cavities that had once been his eyes. The truth was that this had been the first time he had tried to do this on his own. He couldn't stand to touch the holes that he used to see out of. He turned to face the door. His hair fell into his face as he moved.

On the other side of the door Meyers went to the table where the sunglasses were. Bradney thought that the demand for the sunglasses was just Sands being a shit. "Agent Sands, quit the games and schemes. Get out here so we can talk."

~I'm going to freak out.~ He gripped the edge of the sink. ~I'm okay. My name is Sheldon Jeffrey Sands. I work for the Central Intelligence Agency. I throw shapes, I set them up and I watch them fall.~ He mentally repeated this mantra three times before he realized that he was falling. As he fell he swiped the cup and it hit the floor with a dull thud. He banged his head off the counter as he hit the floor. The result was that the people of the other side of the door heard a loud bang.

At the same time that all that happened Fernando walked into the room. He was immediately on edge. There was too much that Sands had been through for him to be comfortable with coming into a roomful of strangers.

Bradney grabbed the sunglasses from Meyers' hand and headed towards the bathroom. Meyers could hardly believe what he was seeing. He knew that Sands would not be happy with that. Bradney opened the bathroom door. Sands was sitting on the floor rubbing his head. The counter and the floor were covered with the liquid that the cup had held. When he heard the door open he sat up straight; not recognizing the pattern of the footfalls or the cologne that the person was wearing.

"Who's there?" He lifted his head to face the intruder. He figured at best he'd have the element of surprise. He smiled wickedly as he heard the gasp; but the smile faded when he realized that his unwanted guest was still there. Worse than that the intruder was handing him his sunglasses. He waited for the sound of a gun being cocked but none came.

"My God Sands. What the hell happened to you?"

Immediately he recognized the voice. It was Defense Director Charles Bradney. He adjusted the glasses on his face. "Mexico." He used the counter to pull himself to his feet. He stepped into the other room and Fernando slipped his hand into Sheldon's.

Bradney ran a hand over his face and looked at Meyers. Meyers raised an eyebrow and shrugged. His expression clearly said ~I tried to tell you.~

Fernando led Sands to the bed. Sands backed up until his heel hit the frame and then he sat. Fernando disappeared into the bathroom. Once re-adjusted and once again on his own turf where he was comfortable he become cocky. Sands 'looked' at the two agents. "What's the word?"

Bradney cleared his throat. "The coup that happened on November 2nd. That was a serious fuck up."

Sands nodded, as if considering what the man said. He gently tapped the front of his sunglasses. "No shit. I asked for back up because Cucuy ratted me out and the Cartel was shadowing me. I told my supervisor where I'd be but help never came. Instead Ajedrez, Barillo's daughter came and they drilled out my eyes."

Bradney shook his head. "I don't know about that. I do know that The Company isn't happy that taking out Marquez and the President of Mexico couldn't be handled quietly. Your entire operation is under investigation."

Sheldon nodded. He had already figured that. He was half-surprised that they hadn't arrested him the minute that they had been told that he was back in the United States. He cracked his back. "I guess this is the part where you tell me not to leave the country?"

Bradney nodded. "Yes." He opened his mouth to say something else but Meyers silenced him with a shake of his head. "We'll be in touch Agent Sands."

"Sure."

As Bradney left Sands couldn't help but feel as if he was in the most trouble that he could possibly ever be in.


	4. Office Visit

Sheldon knew, as he sat on his bed, that the CIA would want to debrief him as soon as the hospital gave the okay. That being said he was trying to think up as many half-truths as he could. It had been his experience then if he told half-truths, they were usually more believable then the whole truth.

A knock on the door of his room jolted him out of his thoughts. He was going to be released from the hospital the next day. It was sooner then the doctors would have liked. Sheldon figured that life wasn't fair and that was just something that Dr. Fuckmook was going to learn the hard way.

He knew (deep down) that it was to soon to leave the hospital. He still wasn't used to living life as a blind man. There were every day tasks that he still needed help with. But the fact was, if he stayed in the hospital, he wasn't doing anything to clear his name. He knew that it was too late to salvage his career that was ended on November 2nd, when Barillo stole his sight.

Anyway, he was jolted out of his thoughts of how fucked up his situation was becoming when someone knocked on his door. "Come in."

Meyers walked in. He didn't say anything at first. When he had signed into the visitor's log, they said that he should try to get Sheldon to recognize him by his walk and his scent, not voice.

"Who's there?" He was sitting straight, sunglasses on and his head was slightly cocked to the left. It was clear to him that his visitor wasn't going to speak. He did the one thing that came to him on reflex; he reached for his gun. He stopped when he felt the brush of cold metal against his skin. It took less than 20 seconds for him to realize that it was a gun.

He put his hands up, in a gesture of compliance. "Okay. What do you want?" The gun was cocked and Sands was trying to think of what his 'visitor' could possibly want. There was very little that he could come up with that was plausible. If it were an enemy they would have killed him by now. That meant that the person had to be from The Company.

He tried to quell his panic and concentrate on what was in front of him. There was a cologne that the man was wearing, it reminded him of something but he couldn't pin it. Then there was the way the man was breathing. His inhale had a slight whistle, there was only one man that he knew of that had that particular nasal problem. He smiled at his own conclusion. "Meyers."

The safety was replaced on the gun. It was lowered. "Very good."

Sands seemed to relax once he realized that he had guessed correctly. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm going to place a box on your lap. There are things in it that The Company thinks that you might find useful." Meyers watched as Sands felt for the lid of the box and carefully lifted it. The first item he pulled out was square and semi-heavy. As he ran his fingers over the top, he found a large button and pressed it. An automated voice sounded and it made him jump slightly.

Eleven AM

Sands cocked an eyebrow. "A talking alarm clock?"

Meyers shrugged. "Even blind guys have to get up in the morning."

The next item that he pulled out, he had a hard time trying to figure out. It had legs, like glasses, a bridge and wide lenses. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion and his forehead creased on concentration. "I give up. What the fuck is it?"

Meyers chuckled. "They're sunglasses. The Company had them specially made to fit your face. They'll fit snuggly onto your face. Anyone would try to look at your….injury wouldn't be able to see under the glasses. Here." He removed Sheldon's glasses. He cringed as Sheldon winced and looked down. As Meyers moved Sands' hair out of the way and lifted his head so that he could place the glasses on, he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach.

He remembered when he first met Sheldon. When he had first met Sheldon, they were both training to be officers for the Central Intelligence Agency of America. They had been paired together for study partners. Those had been the best four weeks of his existence. He had found it difficult to concentrate because he kept getting lost in Sands' dark brown eyes.

Now he was cringing. Instead of taking off the sunglasses and falling into warm chocolate brown eyes, he took off the sunglasses and fell into a dark, black unforgiving abyss.

Sands felt exposed; he always did without something covering his eyeless sockets. He cleared his throat. "Meyers?"

The man was suddenly brought back to reality. He muttered his apology as he realized that he had been daydreaming, lost in his own thoughts instead of paying attention to his original task. He slipped the new glasses on his friend's face.

With that done Sheldon realized there were still two items left in the box. The first, it turned out was an easy-to-read Braille book. The last item was a blind stick. He wasn't thrilled about either one but knew that both were a necessity. Sheldon stood. "I appreciate you coming by but there are a ton of things that I need to do before I can breathe."

Meyers knew that now as it was going to get. "The Company has pulled your status. They want to debrief you still but as of 0400 this morning you went from Agent Sands to Mr. Sands."

Sands put his perfected poker face back on. Meyers knew that this was not good.

"No need to worry. You might have been officially pulled but I haven't. I'll be your eyes at the office. If there's anything out of place going on you'll know about it."

"You don't have to…" Sands got cut off.

"It's The Company's fault that you had your eyes drilled out. They can't just cover it up and leave you be. They need to take responsibility for once. You should start preparing yourself; they will be here to debrief you in less than an hour."

Sheldon heard the door close and he knew that he was alone. He brushed his hair and teeth in the bathroom. He smoothed out his shirt and made sure that his shoes were tied. After that he spent the rest of his time practicing walking with his stick. Never being one to take things slow there was a reason he was one of the CIA's top agents. He was above average intelligence. This meant that when it came to quick thinking, making up plans and foreseeing problems, learning new skills and languages he was superb. He was a master manipulator. All these things combined explained why he was completely at ease with his cane in under a half an hour. He fixed his glasses and went through his half-truths and schemes. There was a knock on the door. He carefully walked over to the door, tapping his cane as he went and opened it.

Bradney looked at the man standing in front of him. It was strange; Collins was saying that Sands never called him. That he had sabotaged his own mission. If Collins could see with his own eyes if Sands had sabotaged his own mission the price he had paid was permanent.

"Are you ready Sheldon?"

Sands leaned on his stick and sighed. This was not going to go well and he knew it. "I'm as ready as I'm going to be." Bradney took his elbow and lead him out to the car. They were silent during the car ride there. Bradney didn't bother trying to cajole him into a conversation.

Sands was not easily intimidated. However, when they stepped out of the car he realized that he was definitely in over his head. When they were out of the car he waited. It took Bradney a minute to realize what he was waiting for. He walked over to where Sands stood, grabbed his elbow and lead him into the building. When they first started walking Sands let Bradney lead completely. He knew that The Company's compound consisted of one of eight buildings and he was unsure as to which one he was in. His confidence began to grow when he realized that he recognized the buildings layout, they were in the main building. He knew this one like the back of his hand. After passing three doors the two stopped walking and he wasn't sure why, until he heard footsteps approaching them.

Sands noticed just from the footsteps alone that it had to be a woman. The way the heel hit the ground; it made an echo like pumps. As the footsteps drew closer, he realized that the owner was also wearing perfume. It was a scent that he recognized but couldn't place, that was until she spoke.

"Sheldon Sands."

He seemed to be looking right at her. "Mia Mills."

Bradney was surprised. He knew that when it came to debriefing agents The Company preferred that they not know each other. This was just to eliminate the human element; no emotion, no sympathy, less to clean up later. "You know her?"

Sheldon turned his head slightly so that he was 'looking' at Chuck. "Yeah. When we first started out, we were partners. She was the first and last partner that I was ever assigned. The Company figured out that I worked better alone." He turned his attention back to Mia. "Are we ready to get this over with?"

"Sure."

Sands briefly turned back to Chuck. "You'll be here when we finish?"

"Of course."

Mia started walking and Sands followed the sound of her footsteps. As they walked to the room Mia figured that Sands was being dramatic. She knew that he had to know the trouble that he was in and the charges that were being placed against him. This blind act of his was probably a ploy for sympathy. If it was, he had sunk to a whole new low. All the same she figured that she'd play along.

Once they were in the correct room she led him to the table. She even pulled his chair out for him. "Would you like anything before we start?"

He produced a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his jacket pocket. "Yeah. Coffee and an ashtray." Within a few minutes both items were placed in front of him.

She sat across from him and pressed the record button on the taping device that was on the table. "For the record please state your name, number and where you were stationed."

He lit a cigarette. "Former Central Intelligence Agent Sheldon Jeffrey Sands. 823418. Mexico."

She was surprised that he had known that his status had been pulled. She was sure that Jordan Collins, his supervisor, hadn't told him. Collins would have had no reason to tell him. "What day was the coup attempted?"

"November 2nd, the Day of the Dead." He took a drag of his cigarette. He placed his left hand on the table until it collided with the ashtray. He tapped the ashes into it then he placed the cigarette into the holder on the side. He moved his left hand further until it met with the cup of coffee. He felt the cup until he found the handle and lifted the cup to his lips. The coffee was strong and at the moment, it was exactly what he wanted.

Mia thought that he was taking this act of his a bit too far. She was half tempted to shut the tape recorder off and ask him what the hell he was doing. She knew that she couldn't do that. "What caused your mission to fail?"

He picked up his cigarette and took another drag. "Someone gave me false information on one of the people that I had hired to work underneath me."

"How so?"

"When I had a background check done on Ajedrez; which Collins performed he said that she was clean. It turned out that she was Barillo's daughter. She leaked the information on what we were going to do, to her father. She told him everything. By the time that I figured this out it was too late."

"What happened next?"

He stubbed out his cigarette and lit another one. She noticed that he was shaking. Whatever had happened had left its mark on him.

"Barillo, and his pet surgeon Dr. Hosé Guevera had decided that I hadn't done anything worth dying over, I had just seen too much of their operation. They wanted to make sure that I didn't see anything again."

"Explain."

Sands had been hoping that she would say that. He had noticed that she had been careful not to mention his 'blind' behaviour. He tucked the hair that had fell in front of his face behind his ear. He took a deep breath and removed his sunglasses.

As she looked up she gasped at what she saw looking back at her. "Christ." She muttered.

He continued to face her. He wanted to look down and put the glasses back on but he knew that for the full emphasis of what had happened he needed her to be looking directly at his face and at the damage that had been done. "They drilled out my eyes. After they were done, they made sure that I succeeded in getting out of the building, alive."

She regained her composure. "When it became obvious that your mission was failing, why didn't you call?"

The surprise of her statement registered on his face. "I did. At 1200 hours I had been on the phone with Collins. I had told him that the line had been compromised and that I needed another one. I told him that I'd meet him at The Flying Cow. But when I got there Ajedrez was waiting for me."

She began flipping through the phone records that she had with her. "You don't have that particular phone anymore do you?"

"No, why?"

She sighed. "Well as you know, all of the phone calls that are placed by our field agents are documented. According to all the documents that we have, the last time anyone heard from you was October 25th."

He shook his head. "That's impossible. I called on November 2nd, just before Barillo decided to operate on my face. The cell phone that you want is either at my apartment in Mexico or at the American hospital that I was at."

Mia nodded. "Okay, so our next step will be to find that phone. We'll be in touch. I've been instructed to request that you not leave the country. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

The tape recorder stopped and Sands snubbed out his cigarette. Mia got up from her chair. "Wait here."

When Mia entered the reception area she was surprised to find both Bradney and Meyers were still there. "Sands is done for now."

Meyers nodded and started walking towards the room. Bradney made as if to follow him but Meyers stopped him with a warning glance. If Sheldon had told her everything like he was supposed to then he would be in bad shape. He walked into the room. Sands had his head on the table. "Sands?" He approached the table cautiously. He was dismayed when Sands didn't respond to his name. As he got closer he realized that Sands was shaking. Meyers put his hand on the other man's shoulder. He was almost certain that the other man was crying but with no tears or sound it was hard to tell. "Sheldon?"

Sands squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, reminded himself of who he was and what he had survived. He looked straight ahead not knowing if someone was there. He needed to get his bearings before he faced the darkness again.

"My name is Sheldon Jeffrey Sands. I work for the Central Intelligence Agency. I throw shapes, I set them up and I watch them fall. I'm living La Vida Loca."

Meyers was a bit worried that Sands wasn't responding to his name. He decided to try again, this time using what Sands had always let him call him. "Jeff?"

Sands cleared his throat. He had been so desperate to get a grip on the darkness that he had let someone get the drop on him. "Jack?" His voice was unsteady. He stood up carefully, took his cane out of his pocket and snapped it together.

"Uh-huh."

"Can we go now?"

"Yes."

He lightly tapped the cane in front of him as he walked. They walked right out of the building and straight out into the parking lot. Once they got to the car Meyers opened Sands' car door for him. As the car door accidentally hit his hand Meyers was sure that the cane was going to go flying under the car. Sands had been smart and had the cane secured to his wrist by the strap. When the door hit him, he just stepped back.

Once they were in the car and driving back towards Sands' apartment, Meyers broke the silence that had seemed deafening. "What the hell happened in there?"

Sands turned his head so it appeared that he was looking at him. "Isn't that obvious? They tried to get inside my head and my defenses kicked in. Although I think I'm in more trouble than I first thought. From what Mia told me Collins is denying that I called him on the Day of the Dead. I think that he's trying to push me towards a nervous or mental breakdown. As we both know if that happens the CIA can place me in a psychiatric facility, where nobody will miss me and they can forget that I exist."

The car stopped. "Do you want me to walk you in?"

Sands grinned at him. "I'm quite capable of getting into my apartment by myself." His eyebrows furrowed. " That is where we are, right?"

Meyers chuckled. "Yeah, I dropped you off at your apartment." As Sands opened the car door, Meyers lightly touched Sheldon's arm. "If Collins was responsible for what went down in Mexico I'll find the proof."

Sands smiled. " I know. Thank you." He shut the door and headed into his apartment building.

Meyers drove home. He knew that he had to figure out a way to get Collins away from his computer long enough for him to search his personal files and see if what he was looking for was there. The fact of the matter was that if they didn't find the evidence then the CIA would do exactly as Sheldon said. They would figure that he had gone rogue and that he needed to be 'taken care of.'

He was worried. That wouldn't be the first time that The Company made one of its agents disappear. It would be relatively easy since the only surviving family that Sands had was his mother. His other worries came from himself and had nothing to do with The Company but focused on Sheldon. His problem was the same problem that he had had while training for the CIA with Sands. He thought that Sheldon was a very beautiful man. The truth was now Sheldon was driving him crazy.

He knew that Sands' world was reduced to sound, taste and touch. Every time Sands touched him, shivers ran a marathon down his spine. Sheldon didn't even know what he was doing to him. Meyers knew that for Sands his sense of touch was his eyes. But it was still difficult. However, that didn't change the fact that he still found Sands attractive. When he was in the debriefing room crying, he had wanted nothing more than to hold him and make all the painful memories go away.

He went to bed that night dreaming of Sands. In his dreams Sands had those warm chocolate brown eyes. In his dreams Mexico had never happened and Sheldon was shivering with pleasure beneath him. When he awoke the next morning he had to change his pajamas as well as his sheets.


	5. Information and Ambush

The next morning was more nerve-wracking for Agent Jack Meyers. He got to work and immediately started to think of ways to get Collins out of his office. As luck would have it, fate was on his side. Setting up distractions and schemes so that people do what you want them to was more Sands' specialty then his own. Sheldon must have known this. Just when Meyers was thinking of sabotaging the security system but first he'd have to convince Collins to get into the elevator so that he'd be trapped, he heard an irritating, repetitive tapping noise that needed to be stopped.

He left his desk and walked into the hallway. He ducked behind a door when he saw Sheldon. He was hiding more from the person or people that Sands was talking to then from Sands himself.

At the moment he was busy talking to the receptionist. "Yes, I know my status says that I'm inactive. But you see, I was here for my debriefing yesterday and there was something that I forgot to tell Agent Mills and it's very important."

Almost as if it was one of Sands spectacular set ups, Collins walked down hall. "Sheldon Sands." Now Meyers knew that Sheldon had to have heard him but he jumped when Collins yelled, dropping his cane and letting it roll across the floor. He backed up so that his back hit the counter. Meyers used the time given to him to sneak back around the corner and into Collins' office.

Meyers wasn't sure how long he'd have. He decided that the faster he worked the better. The hard part was that he wasn't exactly sure what he was looking for. Once he was inside the office he was surprised to find a compact disc on the desk. When he picked it up, and the light hit the surface of the disc a message seemed to appear on the case. _Corruption is lethal_. It was in Sands writing. He put the disc into his pocket and walked back to his office. He noticed that Sands was in the hallway outside his office, leaning against the wall.

Sheldon knew right away who was watching him. "Who knew that Collins didn't like the fact that the important thing I wanted to tell Mills was that I left my prosthetic arm in Mexico."

Meyers grabbed him by the elbow and led him into the office, then shut the door. "Even blind you're a better agent then me."

Sands laughed. Meyers relaxed, it couldn't be that bad if Sands could still laugh. He remembered the way that Sands used to laugh. The way his face would soften, the sparkle in his brown eyes, the feel of his hand on Meyers shoulder and a quirky smile on his lips. Now when he laughed things seemed to change. His features seemed to soften, but the worry lines never left. Mexico had managed to age him the way that being in the CIA couldn't. They had taken something else as well. Or maybe that had been the plan all along.

Sheldon's expression changed, as he grew serious. "Take it home, download it and then tell me what you _see_." He got up, extended his fingers until his fingertips hit the door. He grabbed the handle and pulled the door open.

"Where are you going?"

Sands turned so that he was facing Meyers. He smiled sarcastically. With no job or family to go to, where in the hell did he think he was going? He stood in the doorway. "Home."

Once out of the building he managed to get a cab rather quickly. He got into the cab and told the driver the address. He never noticed the man that was following.

Meyers went home that afternoon. When he popped the Compact Disc into the computer he couldn't believe what he saw. There was only one file on it. The file was named 823418. Meyers knew that his was Sands number. All CIA agents have a number; this is the number that they repeat. As he opened the file and started to read he felt sick to his stomach.

Sands got home and immediately knew that something was wrong. As soon as he shut the door he felt another presence in the room. "Who's there?" The only response to his question was the touch of cold metal against his temple. At the same time the intruder kicked his cane away from him. Sheldon knew that he wouldn't be able to fight the man off. The man was so close to him that he could smell the cologne and it made him feel sick.

"Open your mouth."

Sands turned slightly and opened his mouth. He was sure that he would feel the cold steel of the gun against his lips. He was both surprised and terrified to find a rolled up cloth being shoved into his mouth and then the feel of tape across his mouth. He knew that this was not good. The cloth combined with the tape would muffle any noise that he made. ~Okay Sheldon keep calm. After all, you've been through worse."~

"Sit."

Sheldon had a bit of trouble with that. He could feel the floor beneath his feet but he had a hard time judging the distance. This meant that he simply let himself fall, rather then going to his knees and then to his butt. The laughing that he heard was maddening.

"Hands out in front, palms together, fingers interlaced."

With an eerie calmness that was all fake and practiced, he did as was requested.

The man bound his hands together with tape. There were millions of questions flooding his head and unfortunately his ability to speak, at the moment was gone. He was panicking but he was keeping his breathing steady. He had to make sure, whoever this fuckmook was, that he knew that he was not getting under his skin.

As of right then he was trapped in his dark world. Unable to touch anything. He was unable to get this man's attention by talking. He quickly tried to decipher the noises that he heard. His heart jumped into his throat as he heard a zipper being pulled down. As his assailant pushed him so that he was lying on his back he realized exactly what this man was going to do to him. He couldn't fight him off, he was pretty sure that the man would shoot him without thinking twice. He was just hoping that the errands that he had sent Fernando on would be enough to keep the child from walking in on what he was sure was going to be a rape.

"Hands over your head."

He mentally sighed and lifted his hands over his head. As his zipper was pulled down and his pants were pulled down to his ankles he thought that he couldn't feel anymore exposed. Then the intruder did the unthinkable; he reached down and went to pull the sunglasses of Sands' face. Sands moved his head until he felt the cold metal of the gun under his chin. He froze.

~Fine, fuckmook. Take 'em off. I hope what you see gives you nightmares.~ After he felt the sunglasses leave his face, he waited for the gasp. It never came. The shock and surprise that most people experience after they see the exposed upper portion of his face wasn't there. Sands knew that this meant that whoever this person was he had to have already known about his trouble in Mexico.

He tried to keep his thoughts organized. This was hard; all he could think of was how gruesome he looked and how exposed he felt. ~Okay Sheldon. Breathe. Take it easy. It's going to be hurt but after getting your eyes drilled out, this will be a walk in the park. Just go inside your head and everything will be okay."~

"Mr. Sands? You aren't listening to me anymore."

Sands faced where he thought the voice was. He had to stay focused. He realized that going inside his head wasn't an option; he had to be aware of everything.

He felt his hair fall into his face. He was glad; he used his glasses as a security blanket. When he had them on he could pretend that nothing was wrong. With them on he was fearless. Without them he was vulnerable. Whoever looked at his face would see immediately that he was mutilated. His weakness was put out in the open. He was turned from Sheldon Jeffrey Sands, former CIA agent, to Sheldon Jeffrey Sands, the blind man. He cringed as his intruder took the hair that had fallen and tucked the stands behind his ear. With that bit of comfort gone his mask of indifference began to slip.

The intruder smiled as Sands' breathing hitched. "You did something wrong, didn't you?" Sands shook his head. "Wrong answer." He ripped open a condom and placed it on himself. "When you lie bad things happen to you." Sands winced as his legs were spread and he felt something at the entrance of his body. "You can recant your earlier statement. You did something at the office that you weren't supposed to, didn't you?"

Once again Sands shook his head. He bit down on the cloth inside his mouth as the man entered him. It was the most excruciating pain that he had ever felt. It felt as if he was riding a pole and being split in half. He was pleading behind the gag for the man to stop.

As the man thrust in and out of his body he laughed. He knew from the strained look on Sheldon's face that he was causing him pain. He knew that if Sands had eyes he'd be crying. He knew that the moans that he heard were the pleas for him to stop. He didn't stop until his seed had filled the condom. When he looked up at Sands, he was pleased with what he saw. The snarky CIA agent still had his hands above his head; his fists were clenched so hard that his nails had dug into his palms. His head was twisted to one side.

He pulled out, redressed himself and ungagged him. He put his hand under Sands' chin, forcing him to 'look' at him. He was ecstatic to discover Sands was trembling. "I'll consider this a lesson learned, if it's discovered that you're where you don't belong," he raised his gun so that it was under Sands' chin again. "I'll have to put this to use. Understand?"

Sands cocked his head to the side. " Yes." He was proud of himself; he had been able to keep his voice steady. The man untied him and left. Sheldon lay on his floor for almost an hour before he was able to get his breathing and mind under control. He had just managed to get dressed when his phone rang. "Hello?"

Meyers had a feeling that something was wrong. Sands sounded stuffy and extremely tired. "Sands? Are you okay?" Before the question could be answered Fernando came in. He was stunned. Sands was sitting on the floor rocking and talking on the phone. Fernando made sure that he was quiet.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Tell me what you found."


	6. Conselor Appointment

"Look, it's something that needs to be discussed in person. I'm coming over."

Before he could respond the dial tone was buzzing in his ear. "Shit! Fernando? Fernando?!"

The boy came into the living room from the kitchen. Sands was glad that his apartment was small. It was easy to memorize he knew where everything was. So he knew when he heard Fernando that the kid was coming from the kitchen; he turned to face him, completely oblivious to the fact that he didn't have his sunglasses on. Fernando had seen it enough times it didn't frighten him.

"When did you get home?"

The kid shifted his weight. "A little bit ago."

"What did you see?" As he spoke he walked towards the kid. Fernando knew that when Sands was like this it was just best to leave him be.

"I didn't see anything." Fernando took Sheldon's hand and positioned it so that it was palm up. He placed his sunglasses in his hand. It took Sands a minute to figure out what was in his hand; he smiled in relief when he realized that it was his shades. Fernando was glad that he had decided to grab Sands' sunglasses. He knew that there was nothing to be afraid of, but it still freaked him out. There was just something mildly disgusting about having to see the holes where Sands' eyes had been. At least with the sunglasses on Fernando could pretend that Sands was just an average blind guy. For a while he could forget what it was like to live in Mexico. He could devote his time to making Sands proud of him by succeeding in school and making sure that Sands had everything he needed.

Sands put his glasses on. " Meyers is coming. Do you remember him?"

Fernando nodded, forgetting that Sands couldn't see him nod and then added "Si. Agente, like you."

Sands nodded. "That's right. He'll be herein a few minutes. I'm going upstairs to change, when he knocks let him in."

"Si." Fernando left the doorway and stepped completely into the living room. He started straightening out the couch.

Sheldon carefully made his way upstairs. He grabbed a pair of jeans off a chair in his room, then made his way into the bathroom. When he tripped over the floor rug he cursed at himself for not remembering to ask Fernando for his cane. Just as he started unbuttoning his jeans there was a knock on the door. He was slightly irritated but answered the door anyway.

"Senor Sands? You want this?"

The folded up came was put in his hand. Sometimes Sheldon wondered how the kid managed to do that to know what he needed sometimes before he did. "Thank you." He took the cane and closed the door again. He went back to the business of cleaning himself up. He shuddered in disgust as he felt himself bleeding. It took all of the will power that he had to keep himself quiet. He hissed through his teeth as the water from the washcloth touched his abused hole.

He wanted to curl into a ball and stay that way until his ass stopped throbbing. He knew that wasn't an option. He finished dressing, snapped his cane together and opened the door. He walked out into the hallway. "Fernando?"

"Si."

Sands hesitated. "Can you get a cup and my disinfectant and bring them into the bathroom?" It was only a few minutes before he could hear the boy approaching the door. "Put in on the counter." As he spoke he picked up his soiled clothes off the floor and walked into his bedroom. It took him awhile to find his laundry hamper, but once he did (by practically falling into it) that's where he deposited the clothes.

Fernando had heard a knock on the front door. He went downstairs to answer it. Meyers took one look at the boy and knew that something wasn't right. "What's wrong?"

"Senor Sands. When I got home he was lying on the floor." The child was shaking. Whatever it was that the child saw he wasn't giving it up.

"Where is he?"

"Bathroom."

Meyers nodded. "Okay. I'm going to go up and talk to him. I want you to stay down here." Fernando nodded and Meyers was glad. He had no idea what kind of mood Sands was in. If he could keep the child from experiencing Sands' temper then he felt like he was doing his duty as an adult.

He quietly walked upstairs, he became aware that the bathroom door was open and he could hear Sheldon talking to himself. He leaned against the wall and listened. He wanted to try to see what kind of a mood he was in.

"Okay Shel. You can do this."

Meyers poked his head in the bathroom. If he didn't know any better he would have thought that Sands was looking at himself in the mirror. Sands took his sunglasses off and with a shaky hand; he touched the edge of his left socket. He seemed frustrated. "Almost a month and I still can't do this without wanting to vomit. If I can't touch my face, how is anyone else going to?"

~I would~ thought Meyers. He watched as Sands tilted his head back and squirted some sort of clear liquid into both sockets. In a few seconds he brought his head forward and let the liquid run out. To Meyers, it looked almost like tears.

After that was finished he sank to his knees. He put his hand on the floor to steady himself; he was shaking and breathing heavily. Meyers was guessing that this was as close to crying as Sheldon Sands could get. Several minutes later he grabbed the edge of the counter and used it to pull himself to his feet. He ran his hand along the counter until he found his glasses. With them back on, he seemed more confident. He took his cane (which he had folded and put back in his pocket) out and snapped it together.

Meyers cleared his throat. Sands turned quickly to face his unknown guest. Meyers noticed that Sheldon was suddenly pale as paper. "Relax, Shel, it's just me." He smiled as the tension visibly left the other man's body.

"How long have you been there?" ~I hate not being able to tell when someone's there. Am I ever going to get used to this?~

Meyers quickly studied his friends face. There was panic all over his features. Meyers realized if he was able to read the emotions on his face, there was a crack in his carefully placed mask. He knew that Sheldon wore his masks as carefully as his glasses; it took a lot to crack them. "Only a couple of minutes. What happened?"

Sheldon shook his head, opened a drawer and felt around for his elastic bands. After finding one he moved his hand around on the counter until he found his brush. He held it out to Meyers. "Nothing. As long as you're going to stand there, you might as well make yourself useful. Bedroom."

Meyers took the brush from Sands. Meyers swallowed hard but recovered himself quickly. After all, it was just brushing the man's hair, how hard could that be? It was then that he noticed how bad Sands was shaking. Sands must have realized just how bad his shaking really was.

"Take my elbow and lead me to my room. It's the last door on the left side."

Meyers found it odd that despite the fact that Sands was independent, he was asking for help. As they walked Sands leaned on the other man for support. It was then that he noticed how tired Sands looked. And once again he couldn't shake the nagging feeling he had in the pit of his stomach that something very bad had happened.

Once inside the room Sands let himself collapse on the bed. As he sat, a jolt of pain ran down his spine, straight to his ass and back again. He clenched his teeth together tightly and swallowed his scream. Meyers sat behind him on the bed. He untucked the hair from behind his ears. He took the brush and ran it through Sands hair a few times.

Sands moaned. Having his hair brushed was one of the odd quirks that relaxed him. He enjoyed the feeling as the brush massaged his scalp, as well as the feeling as his hair was gathered and pulled through the hair band.

"Okay Shel. Talk to me."

Sands did something that was completely out of character; he leaned back until his head was resting on the other agent's shoulder. "I was given a warning."

Meyers wrapped his arms around the other man and inhaled his scent. It was an odd but not unpleasant mix of a sharp cologne, disinfectant and deodorant. "What kind of warning?"

Sheldon took a shaky breath. "I was told to keep my nose out of other people's business or I'd be killed."

Meyers knew that there had to be more to it than that. "What else?"

"Nothing."

Meyers gave him a doubtful look. "Alright, well if you won't tell me, I'll have to bring you to a hospital."

Sands shook his head. "No hospital."

"Then spill."

Sands sighed and rubbed the space between his 'eyes'. "When I got home there was someone here. I didn't recognize the voice. I have no idea who it was. He had a gun. He gagged me, tied my hands together and asked me if I had been at 'the office' doing something that I wasn't supposed to. I shook my head. He forced me onto my back and fucked me. Then he said that if I was caught doing something that I shouldn't be, he'd use his gun."

When Sands finished speaking, Meyers was a bit concerned. He realized that the tone that he had used during his explanation; was the same dry, detached tone that he used when he was being debriefed. He searched his brain for something to say that would make this bad situation better. The only thing that he kept thinking was that this man, whoever he was, had broken into Sands' house, violated him, exposed his weakness and threatened him. He tried to think everything he had been taught in CIA. He was certain that there was something in his training that covered what to do in cases like this. Unfortunately he couldn't think of anything. He didn't know what to do. Even when they had been paired together, when they were training, Sands had always been the strong one. He had somehow always known the best way to neutralize the situation.

Sands stayed leaning on the other man. He just wanted everything that he had experienced in the last 7 months to go away. He was shaking still; the more he shook and sobbed the worst he felt. It was made worse by the fact that he knew that his face should have been tear-streaked. He turned around in Meyers' arms so that the side of his face was against the other man's clothed chest. He felt the soft cotton material against his face and sighed. When he inhaled he took in the other man's scent. He smelled like spice and coffee. He was warm and Sands could hear his heart beating. He was vaguely aware of his sunglasses pressing against the side of his face.

~Shel, you're better then this. Pull yourself together. Even if he had been attracted to you, he wouldn't be now. You're a freak. And perfect men like him have no interest in freaks like you. Get it together Sands.~

Meyers noted with some concern that Sheldon had grown quiet. He wasn't shaking or sobbing anymore. He was doing a rhythmic breathing exercise, no doubt trying to force himself to come to grips with whatever warred around in his head. "Sands?"

"Yeah?" He cleared his throat. "Sorry." Sands pulled himself away. He knew that Meyers hadn't said anything but Sands knew that he was uncomfortable and at a loss for what he was doing. And he should be, Sheldon usually didn't do affection.

"No problem." Meyers noticed that Sands wiped underneath his sunglasses. There was a wetness there but he knew that it wasn't tears; it was residue from the disinfectant.

Sands stood up and moved his head from left to right; Meyers cringed at the creaking that resulted. He always hated when Sands did that. The sound of his neck creaking always reminded him of broken bones.

"You okay now?"

Sands flashed him what he hoped was a confident smile but Meyers could see right through it. It was as fake as one of his disguises. He would have commented but the phone rang. At the same time an automated voice announced, " _Central Intelligence Agency Main Office"_ Sands reached over and picked up the phone. "Talk."

Meyers noted how calm, cool and at ease his voice sounded. He was pretty sure that the man was close to a breakdown. He was not allowing his body language to convey that. No wonder he was the most feared and well respected Agent within the CIA. That is not to say that he was the most liked. In fact most people that dealt with Sands within The Company **hated** him. That was hardly the point; he was very good at what he did. He had been the best in his field, whatever that happen to be.

"Mr. Sands. It's Ethan Schmidt. I've just finished reviewing all of the reports that you submitted while on assignment in Mexico, as well as the Human Intelligence Reports you created on several Cartel members and the 'agents' you had working under you. I'd like to meet with you so we could discuss it."

There were warning bells going off in his head but he ignored them. This guy was from CIA Headquarters it would be all right. "Sure. What time?"

"Tomorrow at 2."

"Okay. Sounds like a date." He hung up the phone. He should have been happy he was finally getting somewhere. Instead of feeling happy or even remotely relieved all he felt was worry and dread.

Meyers saw the torrent of emotions playing across Sands' face. "What is it?"

"Ethan Schmidt wants to talk."


	7. Double-Crossed Again

Meyers had a feeling that no good would come of this meeting. At first he had been appalled that Sands waned to go alone. It most likely was a trap he voiced his opinion on this.

Sands sat on his bed, facing Meyers' general direction. He lit a cigarette and took a long drag; he could literally feel the nicotine working on his frayed nerves. "I know. It's going to suck. The fact is everyone in The Company knows that Schmidt and Collins are two bullets in the same chamber. Collins ratted me out while I was in Mexico. He's attempting to make it look like I didn't follow orders, protocol or phone in for assistance when I knew my mission was going to hell in a hand basket. Somebody in a high rank is responsible for my being, shall we say, removed and I'm not resting until I find and kill the fuckmook."

Meyers had forgotten how stubborn Sands could be. He refused to believe that what happened to him was bad luck. He refused to believe that the events of November 2nd were just fate's way of serving justice to a man that double crossed the wrong people one too many times. He was stuck on this theory that people, The Company's people no less, were responsible for his downfall.

Meyers knew that he had pissed people off, that was clear. You didn't get stationed in crap-ass Mexico because you were a nice agent who played by the rules. You got sent to places like Mexico because you were labeled as a problem. His supervisors, who had put up with Sheldon's quirky style of doing things, had grown tired of his shit.

He had seen the assignment and re-assignment papers. All of his supervisors had signed the assignment that he get pulled off his cushy job and placed in Mexico. Meyers knew that Sheldon had no idea that the entire job was one great big set up. For this and a few other reasons he was glad that he was able to talk Sands into letting him accompany him when he went to talk to Schmidt.

Sheldon jolted Jack out of his thoughts. "Since we're both going together tomorrow, you could stay here tonight."

Under any other circumstances Meyers would have tried to think of as many reasons as he could as to why that was a bad idea but not this time. "Sure." He agreed because there was something in the way that he said it. It was the way that his voice quivered just slightly. That night was interesting for Meyers. He received sheets from Sands which he helped get out of the linen closet along with a pillow. He set himself up on the couch. He lay on the couch and inhaled. The couch pillow and sheets all smelled like Sands. It was slightly intoxicating.

Sands waited until he heard the couch creak under the stress of the body that was on it. He waited, stood still in the hallway until he hard Meyers' even breathing. He walked across the hallway. He knew it was 16 steps from his room to the bathroom. He was glad that he had taken the one nurse's advice and learned his way around his apartment without the aid of his cane. Once inside the bathroom, he did something that anyone would consider strange. Ever since his rape, he had this bizarre habit of walking around the room. The purpose of this was to ensure that the room was empty.

Meyers timed everything perfectly. While Sands was walking the perimeter, he got off the couch, soundlessly and walked over to the bathroom. He was just in time to see Sands standing at the sink. Sands pulled open the drawer and produced an eyedropper and a cup. He opened up the medicine cabinet and he ran his hand along the items there until he found the two that he needed. He poured a little of both into the glass and stirred it with the eyedropper. After that was done he reached across the counter and placed a cloth near the cup.

He took a deep breath and took off his sunglasses. He faced where the mirror was and put his hand over its cold surface. He put the sunglasses on the counter. He took another deep breath, obviously trying to mentally prepare himself for what he had to do. He used the eyedropper, filled it with liquid and tilted his head back. He took another deep breath, exhaled slowly and began to release the liquid into his empty socket. There was a sizzling sound and then Sands coughed. "Christ." He mumbled.

Meyers watched silently as he tilted his head forward and let the liquid slowly trickle down his face. Meyers thought that it looked like he was crying.

Sands took another shaky breath and repeated the process with the other socket. Then he used the cloth and wiped the liquid from his face. He hung his head, and his shoulders began to shake. As he sobbed Meyers wanted nothing more then to hold him. But he knew that was impossible. If he did that then Sands would know that he was there when he was supposed to be sleeping. He would know that he had been spying on him.

It was only a few minutes before Sheldon recovered from his near breakdown. He put his sunglasses back on, and walked back to his room. By the time Sands turned to leave the bathroom Meyers was back on the couch and breathing as if in sleep.

As Meyers lay there, breathing in even breaths, inhaling Sands scent and thinking about the private moment that he had witnessed, he couldn't imagine having to do that willingly, knowing that it was going to hurt. Although he knew Sheldon pretty well, he knew that when push came to shove he'd do what needed to be done with very little bitching. He tried not to think of what the next day would hold. He was just hoping that Sheldon would be on his best behaviour.

That morning Sheldon was up at 4 am. He had been tossing and turning in his bed. After enduring hours of re-living his nightmare over and over, he decided that it was time to give up. He quietly left his room and went into the bathroom. He showered and redressed. He disinfected his sockets and brushed his hair. Using the wall as his guide he walked into the kitchen. It took him a few minutes but he managed to find the filters and the coffee. He carefully measured the coffee and turned the coffee maker on. As soon as the coffee was finished, he sat at the table. He was in his permanently dark world drinking coffee and listening to the sounds of Meyers getting in the shower.

Later that morning, as he got everything he would need, Meyers watched him. Watching Sands was fast becoming his favourite activity. He watched the way his fingers ran over his cane to either snap it together or fold it. He marveled at the way his hair fell in front of his sunglasses and he never seemed to notice.

Sands knew that he was being watched. He couldn't figure out why Meyers seemed to watch him all the time. He didn't let himself dwell on that for too long. He knew there was a lot to do and he had no way of knowing what would happen. He figured he better make sure that he was prepared for anything.

He turned so he was facing Meyers. "Come on Sugar butt. Let's move."

The building that they went into was almost an exact copy of any other CIA building in the country. Although the building was bigger then Sheldon remembered. He was guessing that the reason for that was because the last time he had been there he had eyes. That's why he was glad that Meyers had offered to go with him, without him he would have felt lost. Although Sands would never admit that, to admit that would be showing a weakness. He already, as far as he was concerned had one weakness that could be picked out. The last thing that he needed was some fuckmook thinking that he could get to him by relying on the fact that he thought he knew something about him. Hell no. He didn't **need** Meyers, Meyers was there because he volunteered to go.

Meyers grabbed him by his elbow and led him to the reception desk. In truth, he could have found his way there by using his stick, but he wanted to make a certain impression. That impression was like the mask he wore. He wanted to make sure that they thought that he wasn't dealing with being blind very well. When people thought that they had the upper hand, they were more likely to make a mistake.

He put his hand on the edge of the counter. "Sheldon Sands. I'm here to speak with Mr. Schmidt."

The secretary seemed to study Sheldon, almost as if she doubted that he needed his cane or his escort. "Could you spell your last name for me?"

"S-a-n-d-s."

"One moment please." Sands could tell that she typed something on her keyboard then she picked up her phone. "Mr. Schmidt, a Mr. Sands is here to see you. I see. And his friend? Okay." She hung up the phone. "Mr. Schmidt will see you alone, Mr. Sands. Your friend can wait here. Mr. Schmidt's office is the third door on the left."

Sheldon could tell by her tone of voice that she was sympathetic. She was just doing what her boss asked her to do. He had a feeling that if she wasn't so scared of her boss she would have offered to walk him down to the office. "Thank you." He slipped the wristband for his cane over his wrist and began to walk. It took him a few minutes to find the door. He knocked twice and then opened the door.

By the sound of his own footsteps as he entered the room, he guessed that the floor was tiled probably ceramic. He could also tell that the room he was standing in was huge. He had never been in this particular room before so he was feeling awkward. He wasn't sure where anything was so he stood.

"Have a seat Mr. Sands."

Sands used his cane and walked to where the voice was coming from. He found a chair and sat. As he sat down he smiled in Schmidt's direction. He could imagine that the asshole was smiling smugly as Sheldon had searched for the chair. Sheldon knew that something was off. Even if he had decided that smiling, as Sheldon tried to remain calm, that enough time had passed that even Schmidt should have been tired of gloating. He folded his hands in his lap. The wristband for his cane still around his wrist, with the cane lying folded and small in his hand. "Let's talk about Mexico." Sheldon smiled as he said this.

Ethan Schmidt was unimpressed by the way the conversation was heading. He had expected to have Sands broken to pieces over the shit that had happened in Mexico and everything that had happened afterwards. He had expected Sands to be different.

But Sheldon was by no means stupid. Being blind hadn't made him afraid of the world. If anything it had caused him to study his world carefully through touch and finely tuned intuition, as well as taste, smell and sound. If there was one thing that being a CIA agent had taught him, it was to adapt to any situation and adapt quickly. He had learned how to function without his eyes. Sheldon had known what Schmidt was expecting. He knew that his functionality had to be infuriating for Schmidt.

He heard the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked. He tilted his head to the side. "I see. You never intended to talk in the first place. Your whole plan was to get me here, ensure that I'm alone and then kill me."

Ethan shook his head. "No. It's not me."

Sheldon took a deep breath. "No, it's not you. Collins you fuckmook."

Collins chuckled. "I always did admire your unique language. You were a damned good agent, but now. . ."

Sands smiled. He smiled his best-disturbed, psychotic smile. "Choose your words carefully Collins. One false word and you die."

Collins watched the former agent carefully. They were trained to tell lies as smoothly and easily as if they were truth. That's why he was having a hard time trying to figure out Sands' plan and if his words held any truth or real threat in them.

Those couple of minutes was all that Sands needed. He was confident that he could complete the task that he had set for himself. He non-chalantly shrugged. "Collins, if you're going to kill me you might as well do it at close range. Make it quick. I won't fight."

Collins wasn't stupid. He wasn't foolish enough to think that Sheldon didn't have a plan. The only problem was that he had no idea what that plan was. As Collins stepped forward he kept an eye on where Sheldon had his hands. Both of his hands were now at his sides and not in his lap. He raised his gun and pulled the trigger.

Sheldon had known from the man's stance that there was no room for mistakes. He was fine with that; after all he lived for these kinds of situations. He also knew that Collins would underestimate him.

It was because Collins had the habit of underestimating Sands that he thought that he had the upper hand. The situation wasn't going exactly the way he had planned but he was sure he had the upper hand when he raised his gun. He aimed it at Sands and pulled the trigger.

Sheldon moved ever so slightly. The bullet missed him but caught Ethan Schmidt in the head. Collins was enraged. He had always thought that Sands was going to be trouble. Although he supposed that now he was really angry because the bastard had no eyes and he still managed to move out of the way of a bullet that was clearly meant for him. Forgetting that blind or not, Sands was still considered one of the most dangerous agents the CIA had ever seen, he stepped forward.


	8. Chapter 8

Meyers knew that their little meeting was taking far too long. He had been ignoring his gut feelings to race in the room and see what was going on. Sands had promised him, that if he needed help he'd send him a sign.

After he had heard the first gun shot, he was pretty sure that Sands was dead. Then he heard his friend talking, his voice was calm. In other words, Sands had the situation under control for now.

He couldn't stand it. Sheldon might be perfectly fine with the scenario but Meyers wasn't. In fact, the more he thought about it the less he liked Sands' brilliant idea. He walked over to the door and cracked it open. The door opened soundlessly so he watched. He saw Ethan Schmidt's body on the floor and hoped that Sands hadn't done that, or had anything to do with it. As it was Collins was standing less than a foot away from Sands with a gun aimed at the former agents head. Meyers was just about to go in when there was a second shot. Meyers watched in shock as Collins fell to the floor.

Meyers must have made some noise because in a matter of seconds, Sands jacket was open and there was his right arm with a gun in his hand. The gun was aimed right at him. "Jack Meyers. Don't shoot."

Sands put his gun back in the holster as Meyers walked into the room and shut the door. Meyers knew the hows of Collins getting shot. His assumptions were confirmed when there was the sound of air and the prosthetic arm dislodged. This was the same one that he swore he left in Mexico.

Meyers snickered. "I thought you left that in Mexico."

Sands stood up and straightened his glasses. He shrugged and smiled. "That's what I wanted them to think. The fact was I didn't leave it behind and I didn't want to give it back. It had saved my ass too many times, I knew that I'd need it."

As he spoke he slipped his jacket off his shoulder and reattached the fake arm. Meyers watched in awe. He was glad that Sands couldn't see that he was smiling. Even blind he managed to make it out of a tight spot. He had been out-numbered and he still kicked ass. He was amazing.

The more Meyers analyzed the situation, more specifically, the more he analyzed Sands, the more he realized he was falling in love with him. That thought saddened him because he knew that Sands would never feel the same way about him. He decided to make himself useful. He began going through Schmidt's desk. Before Meyers even heard anything Sands was 'looking' towards the door. Sands relaxed when he smelled Bradney's familiar cologne.

"Sands."

"Bradney."

Bradney walked completely into the room. He noticed the slight blush that Meyers had. At that moment he was glad that he wasn't psychic. He had the feeling that he didn't want to know what the man was thinking. He turned to Sands. "Sheldon, while you were in here, having your little meeting I was with the big bosses. They found all of your Intelligence reports, the missing phone records and the original report about what happened in Mexico."

"Is that all?" His voice was dripping with sarcasm.

"No. Apparently. . ."

Sheldon shook his head. "I may be blind but I'm not stupid. I knew right from the beginning that there was going to be some sort of set up in Mexico. I figured that was why they wanted me to go so badly. I just thought that I'd have enough time to expose Barillo and his little plan, and get enough information on the corruption that was going on inside the CIA and get the hell out of Mexico. But the fuck up happened and well, we all know the result of that." He tapped the side of his sunglasses.

Bradney shook his head. "That's not what I mean. According to all the documents that I've read you were **never** supposed to leave Mexico."

Sheldon raised an eyebrow. "How were they going to do it?"

Meyers was the next to speak. "That man that you shot before you made it to the center of the city, he was working for the CIA, Agent Spardler. His job was to make sure if you did make it out of the coup alive, that you died in Mexico."

Sheldon spun around so that he was facing Meyers' general direction. "Were you in on this too?" Now, more than ever he was reminded that he was blind. He was used to being able to tell if someone was lying by their body language or the look in their eyes. Now, he was reduced to the way that the person's voice sounded. He hated that. Right at this moment he couldn't tell if Meyers was lying. It didn't help that his once finely tuned inner voice was full of shit.

His sight had been his ass-saver. Many times when he was about to be bull-shitted to (and the consequences of that would usually have resulted in his death) his eyes had told him the truth. With his sight gone and no hope of ever getting it back, the entire world was against him. That also meant that everyone was out to get him.

Meyers had backed up as if Sands had hit him. He knew that Sands was only protecting himself, but it was painful. After all, they had known each other since their training days. Now here he was saying that he didn't trust him. "Jeff, I was never in on their plot to kill you. I only recently found out. All of that shit was on the disc that you wanted me to read."

Sands cocked his head and smiled. Meyers couldn't exactly pin what it was, but that smile was precisely why Sands was known was psychotic. "Of course it was." Meyers wasn't exactly sure what Sands was thinking but he was pretty sure that it terrified him.

Sands turned around so that he was facing Bradney. He took a few steps in the man's direction. He was standing so close that they were practically nose-to-nose. He turned back to face Meyers, "catch." He threw his unfolded stick at him. He didn't do anything further until he heard Meyers catch it. He turned his attention back to Bradney; he grabbed the man by his shoulders, brought his face forward and inhaled.

As Meyers watched, he thought that Sands had finally flipped his last card. He was certain that Sands was _smelling_ Bradney. "Sands, what are you-"

Sands stepped back, looking like he was staring at Bradney. There were dozens of sensations running through his mind at once, none of them good.

The sound of Barillo's laughter, the whirling of the drill, the pain in bright white. The pain that he felt in his apartment. The shame and humiliation of being violated in his own home, once again the pain was bright white. The real kick in the teeth had been that cologne. He had smelled the same cologne when he had had his eyes drilled out, it was the same cologne that had led him out of the Cartel's building. "It was you. You son of a bitch." He pulled a gun out of his belt and placed it against Bradney's forehead.

Meyers felt like he had been pulled out of reality and zapped into the twilight zone. "Sands?"

"This fuckmook had been there. He had been there in Mexico. He watched as I had my eyes drilled out, he was one of the men that made sure that I made it out of the Cartel's grimy hands safely. That 'incident' that happened at my apartment, he was there. He was the one that ra-" He swallowed hard. He was losing his grip and he knew it. He had to regain control. "He raped me. I want to put a bullet into his head."

Meyers looked at Bradney in disbelief. Bradney figured that maybe he could deny the whole thing. However, when there's a gun being held to your head by someone unstable, you feel compelled to tell the truth. Before Bradney could say anything Meyers remembered a conversation that he had with Richard Mullens, his supervisor about a month before Sands had been sent to Mexico. There was a mole within The Company. Suddenly all the pieces seemed to fit.

"Shel, he's the mole."

"Huh?"

"About 2 years ago it was discovered that The Company had a mole among its ranks. They had found out that the mole had been alerting the Cartel in Mexico as to our inside operations against them."

Sands jaw dropped. " They thought that I was the mole."

Meyers nodded. "Whoever the mole was," he glared at Bradney, "he was very good at covering his tracks. He changed or in some cases, deleted some critical information in your reports. From what I could dig up, he had been doing this, unobserved since the early nineties."

A light seemed to click, Sands made a sudden connection. " Shit. The Company was the one that tipped off the Cartel as to where they could find me. Fuck me hard and fast, that's why they removed my eyes."

Meyers nodded again. "From the Psychiatric evaluations you had done, it was one of your greatest fears. They used what you had admitted to the Psychiatrist against you."

Sands cocked his gun. "So, the big fuckmooks were hoping that I'd either die or become so hopelessly depressed that I’d become one of the many casualties of Mexico. Apparently they don't know me very well."

Bradney knew that if he wanted to get out of current situation he'd have to do some fast-talking or else he'd become a casualty of Sands. "What will you do? Kill me? Then what? Go back to the CIA? You're useless to them now. You've been with them since you were in your mid teens, you have no life outside of that. If you kill me, you'll be up on murder charges. Blind people don't do well in prison."

Sands laughed. He had aced his classes in Interrogation techniques, he knew this quite well. It was where you said all the things that you figured your subject was afraid to hear. The only thing was Bradney didn't know shit.

"You're grasping at straws. I have 2 dead bodies in the room. What's one more?"

Meyers had move so that he was standing behind Sands. He figured that if Sands was going to shoot Bradney at point blank range, the bullet would go right through and he didn't want to risk getting hit.

Sands pulled the trigger.


	9. Aftermath

The next hour or so was a mass of confusion. The supervisors came in and had the dead bodies taken away. Sheldon was taken to a small room, where he was told to wait.

Meyers answered all of their questions and turned over his recording of their conversation. As a direct consequence Richard Mullens was sent for and arrested for conspiracy. That had been the least of Meyers' concerns his main concern was Sands. He had made it perfectly clear that Sands had nothing to do with the shooting of Ethan Schmidt.

Sands on the other hand, was on edge. He was sitting in what he was sure was a very small, cell-like room. He hoped that whatever was going to happen would happen soon, at least before he ran out of cigarettes. He was angry with himself, in the scurry that happened after the shootings, he had left his stick with Meyers. He was tired and stressed out. He hated playing the waiting games but at the same time he was becoming lost in his own thoughts.

He was going over what Bradney had said and although he had been certain that Bradney had been desperate when he said it, there had been truth to it. The truth was that Rachel had dumped him a few days before he had left for Mexico. She had said that he had to make a choice, The Company or her. The Company told him to make a choice. He either work for them and do what they wanted or they make him disappear. A lot of good that decision had done him. Now he was sitting inside the Central Intelligence Agency's headquarters, unemployed, mutilated and feeling incredibly lost.

The door opened and Sands regained his composure. He couldn't tell who it was right away. It took until the man was completely inside the room and the door was closed before he knew.

He released a breath that he didn't know he had been holding. He had been expecting it to be one of the supervisors; telling him that although they appreciated the work he did and they were thankful that he had taken out the Cartel; but the way that he achieved this, as well as some of his dealings were questionable, so with some regret they'd have to make him disappear. But he was grateful when he realized that it was Meyers.

"Sands, are you okay?"

Sands turned so that he was facing the direction of the voice. "That depends."

"On?" As he spoke he placed Sands' cane in his hand.

"Your definition of okay."

"Well, I have good news and bad news."

Sands took a long drag off his cigarette. He held the smoke in his lungs until his body was screaming for air. He waved his hand, in what he hoped was the right direction; telling him to continue.

"The good news is that they're claiming everything that happened in that room was self defense. They are also saying everything that happened in Mexico was the result of bad planning and the consequences were unavoidable."

Sands scoffed. "What are they trying to do?"

Meyers knew that Sands wouldn't like what he had to say. "Well, by implying that it wasn't anyone's fault, you become a write off."

Sands tried to hide how angry he was. He knew that The Company would try something like that. He also knew that like anything run by the government, they would make sure that he kept his mouth shut about anything he knew, that the general public wasn't supposed to know.

"What are they offering?"

Meyers smiled. He forgot how much of a game putting up with Sands was. In Sands' book information came at a price, his silence was a bargaining chip. The fact that he knew something that someone didn't want him to know was something that he could dangle over their heads until they gave him what he wanted. "You know how to play any hand you're given. The Company is placing you into early retirement. You'll have a full pension."

Sands sighed and snubbed out his cigarette. Meyers finally understood why. While the whole ordeal was going on, Sands had still been connected with the CIA. With all the loose ends tied Sheldon had to face the fact that he was a civilian. "Okay." He stood up. "I'm going home to pack."

Meyers felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Where are you going?"

Sands chuckled and gave a heartless smile. "I'm taking Fernando and going back to Mexico."

"Why?"

Sands shrugged. "I'm fucked with no excuse. I have no life here, my career is over and with neither of my parents speaking to me, I have no reason to stay. I'll give the Finance Department a bank account number where they can deposit the checks."

Meyers forgot how cold and unforgiving Sands could be. "I'll drive you to your apartment."

Sands smiled. "Good, because there's no way I'd be able to afford a taxi from this end of town."


	10. Last Chance

The apartment was empty when they arrived. After thoroughly checking the rooms, Sands began to panic. He had known that leaving Fernando alone and vulnerable had been a stupid idea.

Meyers was uncertain as to what to do. He walked into the living room and found Sands standing completely still. His cane was on the ground and he was making an odd chocking noise in the back of his throat. Meyers approached his friend slowly, being sure to make a lot of noise as he did so. "Shel?"

Sands didn't move. He didn't even seem to notice that anyone had spoken to him.

"Jeff?" Meyers snapped his fingers in front of Sands' face, momentarily forgetting that Sands didn't have any eyes to see his fingers with. Meyers jumped back when Sands collapsed on the floor. Meyers thought that this behaviour was odd, Sands had always had a pretty good grip on things, but this meltdown was not unexpected. The last few months had been an emotional roller coaster. As it was, he was sitting on the floor, rocking and mumbling to himself.

"Sands." Meyers touched his shoulder.

"God no, please. NO!" Sands was screaming. He tore off his sunglasses and threw them across the room. He covered his sockets with his hands, his fingers stiffening into claws.

Meyers grabbed his hands and pulled them away from his face. He knew that the skin was still sensitive and he was afraid that Sheldon was going to try to injure himself. He needed to bring Sheldon back around, he was just unsure on how to do that. He pulled Sands so close that was Sands was practically sitting in his lap. "It's okay, Shel. You're okay."

Sheldon turned in the other man's arms so that his head was resting on the other's chest. For the first time he felt safe. Sands shook his head. "I'm not okay. I'll never be okay again."

Meyers smoothed down his hair. "What's wrong?"

Sands inhaled shakily. "Being part of the CIA is the only thing I've ever done. I didn't bother with personal relationships. My father's dead and my mother probably thinks that **I'm** dead."

Meyers felt bad for him. The Company had thrown him out on his ass, without really caring what happened to him. He wrapped his arms around his friend, who was shaking and breathing erratically. Meyers could only guess that he was crying. He was caught off guard when Sands started laughing. He wasn't that surprised; Sands' moods were always unpredictable.

"It's so typical. The Company uses you until you are no longer useful. When you have nothing left to offer, they dismiss you as a mistake or they say that you're unstable. It's really pathetic if you think about it."

Meyers held him tightly and rubbed his back. He wished that he could give him is confidence back. He wanted to give him his life back. He wished he could take all the fear and uncertainty out of his voice. He was completely unsure of how to do that. He placed a hand under Sheldon's chin, forcing him to 'look' at him.

Sheldon tried to put his head down but Meyers prevented him from doing that. He bit his lip and was really wishing that he hadn't thrown his sunglasses. He hated feeling exposed and helpless.

Meyers stared into the dark holes and tried to remember the exact shade that his eyes had been. Sands started to tremble, Meyers was staring at him for too long. He could just imagine the look of disgust that would be on his face.

Meyers guessed what Sands was thinking. He removed his hand from his chin and traced the outline of his sockets. "You're beautiful. Even without your chocolate brown eyes." Meyers kissed his forehead, his nose and finally his lips.

Sands moaned and melted against him.

Meyers smiled at how responsive Sheldon was. "How long has it been since someone has touched you?"

Sands smirked and slightly blushed. "Too long." He may have seemed relaxed, but there were a hundred different scenes playing out in his head and none of them were good. They were all bad, most of which ended with one of them dead. And yes, all of those gruesome scenarios materialized because of a few kisses.

Meyers noticed that Sands seemed tense. He wasn't sure what was wrong but he knew that he needed to make Sands see that everything was all right. "What's the matter, Shel?"

Sands shook his head. "Don't touch me. Please just leave me alone." Sands tried backing away but Meyers stopped him.

"Not until you talk to me."

Sheldon snickered. He would have felt like an asshole if he could have been able to see Meyers' face. "I forgot that it's be kind to the mutilated week."

Meyers wasn't falling for Sands' act. "When are you going to quit falling back on that?"

Sands rubbed his index and middle finger between his 'eyes.' "When I get my eyes back."

"Let's assume that isn't going to happen. When are you going to realize that I love you and had started falling for you since the first time we met? I would use any excuse I could think of as to why we should be put on assignments together and what not. These past couple of months have been great. Not because we had to unravel the great mystery of who wanted you dead but because I got to spend time with you and I didn't have to make up an excuse."

Jack held his breath. He had bared his soul; everything that he had been afraid to say and had held back was out in the open. Now he was waiting for the rejection that was sure to follow. What he hadn't expected was for Sands to lean forward and kiss him on the mouth but one thing he had learned was that when opportunity presented itself, you seized it.

So, when Sheldon opened his mouth, Jack sought out his tongue. He was surprised when sands' tongue started wrestling with his own. Obviously, the intrusion was not unwanted. This was proven by the moan that Sands gave just before they broke for air. Meyers waited in silence. He was waiting for some sort of reaction out of the man, anything. He was unprepared for what he got, Sands started sobbing. There was no mistaking it, he wasn't out-right wailing but he was sobbing, it was heart breaking.

And if the situation couldn't get any worse, it did. At that point, the font door opened and Fernando walked in.


	11. Wrongful Conclusions

All Fernando knew was that Sands was being held by his 'friend.' It wasn't that Sands would have blamed him for being suspicious. After all, as far as Fernando knew the last time he was stuck with his friends he had gotten hurt.

Fernando dropped the book he was carrying and ran over to Sands. Sheldon felt a presence behind him. He inhaled and tried to concentrate on the scent invading his nose. It was a unique mixture of dirt and bubblegum. "It's okay, Fernando."

The boy eyed his friend with concern. His voice was shaky and hoarse. He was always concerned when adults cried; it was scary. Adults weren't supposed to cry, they were supposed to be strong. They were supposed to know the solutions to all the problems.

"You don't look okay."

Sands untangled himself from Meyers' embrace. He faced, where he figured the boy was standing. "Come here." Fernando walked into Sands' out stretched arms. Sands held the shaking boy to his chest. "Shhh. If I weren't okay, I'd tell you. If there was something wrong I'd let you know. You're very important to me, most of the time you're my eyes. Right now, I need **you** to trust **me**."

"Bueno."

"Good. I'm tired; I'm going to bed. Do your homework. If you get hungry there's leftover Lasagna in the fridge."

"Okay." Fernando watched as both men disappeared up the stairs. As he headed into the dining room with the books he had dropped, he was smiling. In the beginning, he had distrusted Meyers, and now he realized that Meyers was the one that saved Sands from himself.

Once they were in Sheldon's room with the door closed, Sands collapsed on the bed. Meyers watched him as he lay on his back on the bed. His hands were at his sides, his left leg was slightly bed, his right leg was straight, his hair was framing his face and his sunglasses were sitting straight on his face.

Meyers sat on the bed. "Relax. Do you trust me?" Jack knew that if he said no, they would go no further.

Sheldon swallowed hard and took a deep breath. "Yes."

Jack smiled. "Good. Don't move." Meyers smiled, right out grinned as he saw Sheldon take another deep breath and then let his body relax. His breath hitched when Meyers removed his sunglasses. Sheldon tried to turn his head away but Meyers was right there, holding his hand. "You don't notice it, but you're still beautiful. It doesn't creep me out at all."

Sands was shaking, Meyers kissed his forehead, the corner of each socket, the tip of his nose and finally his mouth. Meyers slowly unzipped Sands' jeans, popped the button and began to slowly stroke him. Sheldon was moaning and bucking up into Jack's fist. Meyers sucked on two of his fingers and then he began to trace his hole.

As he slid his fingers, Sheldon felt as if the world had stopped. He moaned loudly as Meyers crooked his finger and brushed against his hot spot. Meyers quickly got his pants off and placed a condom on himself. He bent both of Sands' knees and spread his legs. "You okay?"

"Yeah."

Meyers began to slowly enter Sands' body. Sheldon on the other hand, was completely unprepared for how it would feel. He had expected that it would be like his rape. He had expected pain, burning and bright. However, what he got was pleasure beyond anything that he had ever known. It was only a matter of minutes before Sands was writhing beneath him. He was so close to coming; he was in a state of being where only pleasure existed. As Meyers kissed him, he began slamming into him, and then it was over.


	12. The End of the Tunnel

Meyers lay beside Sands, watching the other man sleep. He was beautiful. After they had had sex, he had placed the sunglasses back on his face. Meyers hadn't asked he figured that it was a safety issue. After all, it must be difficult to fall asleep without being able to close your eyes. Although he was guessing it would be worse if Sands actually had eyes to close.

He made sure that Sands was completely covered, he kissed his forehead and got out of bed. He found his pants and shirt and put them on. He glanced at the sleeping man, smiled and then left.

When he got downstairs, Fernando was sitting at the table eating Lasagna and doing his homework. Fernando looked up when Meyers entered the room. "Where's Senor Sands?"

"Sleeping."

The boy nodded. "He okay?"

"He will be."

Fernando nodded once again. He and Sands had already discussed what they were going to do. As Sheldon saw it, there was no place for him in the CIA, when he had talked to Chuck Bradney about staying, the only thing that he'd be good for would be sitting in a room, listening to previously recorded interrogations, interviews and confessions and creating typed transcripts for them. He told Bradney exactly what he could do with that job.

After that conversation, he had gone home and had a talk with Fernando. He wanted the child's input. After all, he had moved him from Mexico and he didn't want to go moving back if Fernando didn't want to. It was the night of that discussion that the notion hit him and he wasn't sure how he felt about it.

As long as he could remember, Sheldon had only cared about the well-being of one person—himself. Now, and ever since his 'accident' he found that he wasn't as independent as he used to be. There were certain things that he relied on other people for and that meant trusting that they would not backstab him. And somewhere in between all of that, his forced trust had become genuine. It was then that he realized not only did he need this kid, but also he had gotten used to having him around.

Fernando was a smart child. He had figured out, right from the beginning that Sands needed him. He could usually tell when Sands needed something before the man told him. When Sands mentioned going back to Mexico, Fernando had said that he didn't care. He didn't concern himself with what Sands might have done to get himself in his predicament. He didn't care about anything that he had done in the past. All he cared about was that Sands needed him now. Sands had been one of the only adults in his life to care enough about him to take care of him. He'd go anywhere that Sands did as long as he still wanted him.

While Meyers and Fernando were downstairs talking Sands slept. His dreams seemed to reflect the inner turmoil he was facing. They were a strange mixture of sounds and sensations. He woke up breathing heavy and shaking. After getting dressed, he found his stick and went downstairs.

He wasn't loud when he came down the stairs; he knew that if something were wrong, being silent would be crucial. He stood near the landing and let his brain sort out all the sounds he heard. It only took him a few seconds to realize that everything was fine. Once he entered the room completely Fernando pushed back his chair and walked over to him.

Meyers was surprised. Sands stood still, with his hands at his sides and waited. Fernando grabbed Sands' hand and led him to an empty chair. Meyers waited until Sands seemed settled before he started talking. "So now what?"

Sands 'looked' at him. "That's a redundant question, isn't it?"

"Is it?" Meyers could guess what Sands was getting at.

"Yes it is. Fernando and I are going back to Mexico. I don't care what you do."

Meyers tried to keep his face emotionless. He didn't want Fernando to see anything that might raise questions. Sands seemed to be able to sense that there was something wrong. "Fernando, leave." Meyers was going to say something but Fernando shook his head. It was clear that the kid was well aware and used to Sands' moods.

Once Sands heard the boy's bedroom door close he turned so that he was facing Meyers. "I am well aware of what you're doing. I'm not sure I like it."

Meyers sighed. "Look Jeff; I love you. I want to be with you. Why can't you accept that?"

Sands put his head into his hands. There were some things that he didn't want to explain; his insecurities were one of them. "Nothing good ever lasts, something will happen. I know this. My career with the CIA may be over but yours isn't."

Meyers laughed. "Out of all the excuses you could have used, that's the one you choose. Jesus Christ."

Sands smiled back. He had known right from the beginning that he wasn't going to win that argument. "Alright I'm moving back to Mexico. Things have settled down enough over there, with all of the members of the Cartel either dead or in jail, nothing will happen. I'm not going to ask you to abandon your career and come with me," Sands gently caressed the side of Meyers' face, "but if you decided to, I wouldn't stop you."

Meyers smiled. He knew that this was the closest he was ever going to get to Sands saying that he wanted him with him. Meyers' kissed the tips of Sands' fingers as they brushed against his mouth. They both knew without saying it that he'd be moving too.


	13. Life

The move back to Mexico went as smoothly as anything in Sands' life ever did. There were no catastrophes and he was back in Mexico by the end of the week. The way that Meyers saw it, Sheldon had had enough drama to last the rest of his life. So he had taken the liberty of packing all of the necessities that Sands would need and sent him to Mexico with Fernando.

The fact was that Meyers was worried. He was going to tell his supervisors that he had finished the last assignment that he had been given and with that done and over with, he had concluded his business with the CIA. He wanted out. He knew that they wouldn't be happy with that news. He wanted to make sure that they didn't connect him with Sheldon. If they did that, he was positive that there would be a scandal. And although that would have been something that Sands would laugh at, Meyers would be mortified.

So, with Sands in Mexico with Fernando, Meyers decided that it was time to face the music. He knew that no matter what happened; in the end, he was going to be leaving the Central Intelligence Agency.

As he entered the main building, he said hello to Kathy, the office receptionist, as he did every time he stopped in. He wanted to make sure that he kept to his routine. He hoped that by doing this things would go well.

Kathy smiled politely and picked up the phone. "Agent Jack Meyers is here to see you." She hung up the phone and looked at Meyers. "Mr. Slade will see you now."

"Thank you Kathy."

He walked to the right of the desk and down a long hallway, lined with offices. He had only been down this hallway once before. This was simply because you only went down there if you had to speak with Marcus Slade. As he entered the room, the tall man was sitting behind a massive Oak desk, shifting through paperwork. He had thick short brown hair, blue eyes and as far as head bosses went he was remarkably thin. He looked up as Meyers shut the door when he was inside the room.

"Agent Meyers." As he spoke he opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a few sheets of paper that had been stapled together.

"Sir?"

"Please have a seat."

Meyers sat where he was instructed. Mr. Slade looked at the pile of papers in front of him. At first Meyers had mistook the pile for standard paperwork, it was now that he realized, it was everything that he had ever handed in. The sheets stapled together were his resignation.

"You're a good agent, one of the best that the CIA has had. You're stable, reliable and responsible. We know that when we send you on an assignment, you'll play by the rules. You have been given every chance, every opportunity to advance your career."

Meyers nodded to say that he agreed and he understood. He knew the game that Marcus was attempting to play. Marcus figured that if he appealed to Jack's ego that he would stay, that was exactly why Meyers cut him short.

"I mean no disrespect sir, but save your shit. I know the speech that you'll spew and you can spew it on someone else. When I first got into the CIA, I thought that I was doing the right thing. But as the years progressed I realized that this company was going corrupt. It was only recently that I realized just how far it would go to get rid of one of its agents. If that's the way it's going to be run then I want no part of it."

Meyers lecture had caught Slade off guard. "Now hold on Agent Meyers, you're jumping to conclusions. I didn't know about the conspiracy against former Agent Sands. And The Company is doing everything they can to make him as comfortable as possible."

Meyers sat there, staring at his supervisor. He knew that Slade would attempt to protect his company, that was his job. At the same time Meyers felt a rage build up inside him. "Sheldon Sands was **the best** agent this company had. He lived and breathed his assignments. He lost his eyes because of a fuck up from The Company, and all you can say is that The Company is making sure that he is comfortable. _That's terrific_. Look, I don't care if he had shady dealings, or if his methods were a bit unorthodox, the fact is that **I quit**. I don't think that I can work for a company that can't take responsibility for its mistakes. Good-bye Mr. Slade." He took off his holster and put it on the table, along with his badge. He walked out of the office without another word. He had briefly wondered if he was doing the right thing. Now was not the time for deep contemplations; after all he had a plane to catch.

While Meyers was at the airport, Sands sat on the balcony, feeling the last rays of the sun on his face. He thought it was ironic, when he had been in Mexico the first time he would have given anything to get out. Once he was out all he could think of was getting back in.

Mexico had stolen everything from him. In some strange way he was thankful for all that had happened. He had known that when the CIA had sent him to Mexico that he had been on a self-destructive path. Even his fiancée had known that. She had seen that he was going to die, if not by his enemy, then by his own hand.

He remembered one night while they had been lying in bed she had made her ultimatum. "Sheldon, I'm worried."

He had rolled over on to his side so that he was facing her. He studied her face in the moonlight. The way her hair fell across the pillow, the way the sheets fell around her body and seemed to hold her shape. He placed his hand on her stomach, in what he hoped was more comforting then possessive. He smiled at her statement. "About what, babe?"

"You mainly. You say that you can't tell me much about your job. All I know is that you work for the government."

"That's for your own protection."

She shook her head. "I don't think that it's the stuffy office job that you claim it to be."

He raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. He knew that with the way that his job went, it was only a matter of time before she started figuring out that something was going on. That didn't mean that he had to like it, or admit to it.

"What happened last month?"

Sheldon sighed they had already discussed this. He didn't understand why she couldn't leave it alone. "I told you, it was the result of an accident at work." He could tell that she wasn't buying it. He couldn't say that if the positions were reversed he would be either. In the light of the moon he could see her eyebrows wrinkle in disapproval, obviously she wasn't falling for his excuse.

She sighed in frustration. "There were three fingernails missing from your right hand. I was at the hospital with you; the doctor said that he hadn't seen anything like it, since studying in Med School when they had shown pictures of what the victims of the Concentration Camps went through. He said that it looked like you had been **tortured**. That it looked as though your nails had been deliberately ripped out."

When he opened up his mouth to respond, she put her hand up to silence him. "It's clear to me that you don't trust me." As she spoke she played with her engagement ring. "If I'm going to marry you, we need to communicate better. I need to know that as your wife I'll know all your secrets."

He understood where she was coming from. He knew that relationships were hard to keep, when it came to his job. That's why he had tried not to have any at all. "Rachel, it's not as simple as you seem to think. There is no easy answer. I love you but I have to protect you."

"Is that how it is?" She was staring into his eyes.

"Yes." He swallowed hard.

She nodded her head in understanding. "Than I'm presuming you know why I won't be here in the morning?"

Sheldon was snapped out of his memories when he heard the front door open. He immediately extended his cane to its full length. He was more than prepared to use it as a weapon. He stood still and waited for his brain to tell him who it was.

Meyers knew from the way that Sands stiffened, that he was on edge.

"Just me."

Sands turned so they were standing practically nose-to-nose. Sands wanted to hug him; he wanted to feel safe and protected, the way that he had felt that day when Meyers had held him while they had been sitting on his bed. He was unsure of what Meyers would do if he hugged him.

Meyers on the other hand wasn't unsure at all. He could see the struggle that Sands was having with his emotions. He knew that Sheldon felt as though he could never be loved. Despite the fact that Meyers loved him and was in love **with** him. Meyers moved towards Sands and pulled him close. At first Sands was stiff and awkward in his arms. Meyers rubbed small circles on his back until he felt him exhale and relax.

"How can you do it?"

Meyers lifted Sands' chin so his voice wasn't muffled by the way he had his head against Meyers' chest. "How can I do what?"

Sands pulled his chin away and put his head back where it had been. "How could you move here with me, when I'm like this?"

Meyers took off Sands' sunglasses and tilted his head so they were facing each other. Sands was shaking, his breathing had quickened and he was making that odd sound in the back of his throat. Meyers was looking into the empty sockets. He was sure that if he had stared deep enough and long enough that Sands would understand. Although he might have been sure about that, he knew that if he wanted Sands to understand him he would have to speak.

He took Sands' hands from the locked position that they had taken behind his back and held them in both of his own. "I'm here because I want to be here. I'm here because you need me. I made the decision to give up my job and the life that I led in the United States to be with you. I realized something about a week into your investigation; you were the one that I wanted to be with, the one I wanted to grow old with. I had seen what being with the CIA had done to you and quite frankly I was ready to quit, I had been ready to go ages ago. I guess seeing how easily they had been able to excuse what happened to you and cast you aside, cemented the fact that I had to get out. I'm here because I want to be; not because I feel sorry for you or pity you."

Sheldon took one of his hands out of Jack's, traced up his neck and along his jaw line with his fingertips. When his fingertips brushed against his lips he kissed them. Sands smiled. "I'm not perfect." He took his other hand and hovered over his sockets, still not willing himself to touch them. "And I wish that there was something I could do about this, but there isn't and I can't. So I guess this is something we'll both have to live with. I appreciate everything you said, and I'm glad that you're with me but what about a job?"

Meyers smiled. Sheldon could be adorable in his constant worry that at any moment things were going to go horribly wrong. "You know that your pension is The Company's way of buying your silence." Sheldon nodded. "Well you're not the only one that they want to keep quiet. The fact is that once I made it clear to them that I had no intention of staying; they bought my silence as well. They set me up with a job here in Mexico. I'm part of a Special Forces Unit."

He could see Sands' expression visibly change. For one reason or another he was very upset and now Meyers thought he knew why. Generally, if you were part of a Special Forces Unit, the chances were pretty good that the job was risky and complicated. That being that, Sands was over-analyzing the situation as he always did. Meyers shook his head. " Not what you think. Not at all. I get to spend my days in an office typing English Intelligence Reports into Spanish and get paid an insane amount of money per hour to do it."

This answer seemed to satisfy Sands and calm him. He laid his head back on Jack's chest. "Where's Fernando?"

Meyers smiled. For a guy who claimed that children were a pain in the ass, and they had no use, he certainly cared for the boy. "When I came in, he was trying to unpack but he was falling asleep so I told him to go to bed."

"Maybe we should too?"

There was nothing that Meyers enjoyed more than to lay down on a soft bed and hold Sheldon as he breathed rhythmically against his chest. "Okay." He linked arms with Sheldon. "Then when we get up, I'll finish unpacking."


	14. Simple Existence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please refer to chapter 1.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is it. The very last chapter. I hope that you've enjoyed it.

Sheldon's life is far from perfect. Sometimes at night, no matter how hard he hugs Jack, or how deeply he breathes in the other man's scent; he can still hear Barillo and the sound of that damn drill. It's during night like those, that Jack holds him close while he cries and begs in his sleep. When that happens Jack rocks back and forth while whispering soothing words into his ear. Sometimes Sands calms down and sometimes he wakes screaming. During the day, Jack sits behind a desk. For the most part his days are repetitive and boring but he doesn't mind. At the end of the day he gets to go home to the man that he loves.

More often then not Sands becomes bored. The life that he leads in Mexico is a far cry from the high stakes one that he had lived while being employed by the CIA. When Jack is at work and Fernando, at school; he has time to reflect on how he got to where he is now. Sometimes the conclusion that he reaches is that life is cruel and unfair. That there was no way that he deserved what had happened to him.

Every once in a while though, he realizes exactly what happened. He had been given a second chance at life, now he had a family, it may not have been the white picket fence version that everyone dreams of, but it made him happy.

They had been living in Mexico for about a year, when Sands decided that it was time to call his mother. Suzanne Sands lived in California; he knew her number off by heart. He wasn't sure of she'd even want to talk to him. The only reason he was calling her was because she was she was the last loose end of his old life that he had yet to tie. So that afternoon, when he was alone, he poured himself a cup of strong black coffee and dialed her number. It rang about six times and he was just about to give up when a voice answered.

"Hello?" It was his mother's voice and he almost dropped the phone.

"Hi mom."

She gasped. "Sheldon?"

"Yeah." He cleared his throat. "It's me."

Suzanne laughed uneasily. "The CIA told me that you were dead. They said that there had been some sort of accident in Mexico and that they had found your body."

He chuckled softly. "You know Government Agencies. They'll tell any lie they can, as long as it covers their own ass. There had been an, we'll use their term, accident but as you can tell, I'm not dead. I was working on exposing the activities of the Mexican Cartel. I was discovered, and they didn't like the fact that I had seen where their building of operations was or that I knew exactly what they were up to." He took a deep breath before he continued. "So they drilled out my eyes."

He heard her gasp on the other end. Those pieces of shit hadn't told her anything; he waited for the dial tone to sound in his ear. When that didn't happen he continued. He was trying to figure out exactly how much to tell her.

"It's alright now. I'm blind but it doesn't hurt anymore. I'm okay."

"Oh Sheldon."

He wanted to be near her. He wanted to show her that he was well and that he could function just fine as a blind man. "It's okay Mom. I live in Mexico with my boyfriend, and a child I've sort of adopted." That last sentence had been out before he realized that he had said it. He thought for sure there would be rebuttal or at least a noise of disgust. There wasn't.

"Are you happy Shelly?"

He thought for a moment. "Yes."

"That's all that matters."

By the end of their conversation he had agreed to visit her with Jack and Fernando, soon. As he sat at the table, drinking his coffee, listening to the ticking of his clock and waiting for his boys to come home, he realized that he had passed the test. He had been able to tell someone outside of his circle what had happened. He smiled to himself. For the first time he felt that everything was going to be fine. For the first time ever he was alone and he felt safe.

End.


End file.
